


Lullaby

by orphan_account



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017)
Genre: 1990 Pennywise, 2017 Pennywise, Bad Parenting, Bets & Wagers, Daddy Kink, Daddywise, Dom/sub, Eldritch, Established Relationship, F/M, Look At Your Life Look At Your Choices, Monsters, Motherhood, My Funny Valentine Series, POV Female Character, Parenthood, Pennywise (IT) Being an Asshole, Pennywise is his own Warning, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Poor Life Choices, Power Imbalance, Shapeshifting, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 19:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12966456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A few months after the birth of the twins, you're settling into motherhood and enjoying it, even though your babies are starting to exhibit signs of their semi-inhuman parentage. At this point, you've already established that the twins share a telepathic connection with their fathers, but you weren't prepared for the latest stage in their development; shape-shifting.Fortunately, you have Penny and Junior to guide you through it, but it's not long before the two clowns are up to their old tricks again...Another one-shot in the 'My Funny Valentine' series.1990!Pennywise/Reader.2017!Pennywise/Reader.Established relationships.





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harazukulove8891](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harazukulove8891/gifts), [The_Stars_Are_Out_Tonight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Stars_Are_Out_Tonight/gifts), [sewerwitchlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewerwitchlove/gifts), [cuntoid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuntoid/gifts), [LuckyRedBalloon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyRedBalloon/gifts), [hotrockcandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotrockcandy/gifts), [PrincessProngslette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessProngslette/gifts), [Bloody_Vixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_Vixen/gifts).



> Hello fellow sewer dwellers!
> 
> Another one-shot from me, set in the 'My Funny Valentine' universe. This entry takes place within the last chapter of 'Cosmic Love' and focuses upon the babies discovering their shape-shifting abilities, with the two clowns trying to get the twins to shift into something scary. It's kinda fluffy and silly, but there is a semi-smutty subplot too. 
> 
> This one is for Harazukulove8891, who requested shape-shifting antics with the weird little family. I hope you like it, beautiful <3
> 
> I'm still working on requests, but I should have them all posted by the end of next month, time permitting. I have three WIPs on the go; another one for Harazukulove8891, one for nounouse, and one for PrincessProngslette. The last WIP will be the final entry in the 'My Funny Valentine' series, wrapping up this storyline for good. Yeah, I know, I've said this before, but I mean it this time! I'll still be writing clown-smut though, so feel free to send more requests my way! <3
> 
> More to come soon. As always, much love to you all <3
> 
> Let me know what you think! Much love to you all <3 xx

_**April 1986** _

It’s a warm evening in late April when you first realise that you’ve got bigger problems on your hands than your children sharing a telepathic connection with their eldritch fathers. You’re sitting on the metal steps of the trailer, enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet with the twins, watching the sun dip beneath the treeline in a hazy pink glow of weak light. Bobby is nursing at your breast, snuffling contentedly and kicking his feet against your ribcage, and little Penny is rolling around on a picnic blanket that you’ve spread out on the grass. The weather has been pleasant enough for you to spend a lot of time outside recently, and you’re in no rush to go inside or to head home, not just yet. Bobby gurgles happily in your arms, biting at your nipple with his hard gums, and you wince, carding your fingers through his coppery hair. 

“Ease up, little one.” You draw back, smiling when he drops the nipple and looks up at you curiously, responding to the sound of your voice, “Mama’s not a chew-toy.” At three and half months old, he’s already a budding empath, picking up on your emotions by reading your body language and the tone of your voice. You’ve read enough baby-books to know that this is normal, it’s all part of the bond between an infant and their main caregiver, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to it. The twins are growing and developing at an astonishing rate, leaping from milestone to the next with startling ease, and quickly surpassing their peers. Your mother thinks they’re too clever by half, for their age, and you agree with her; of course, she has no idea that her precious grandchildren are _alien-spawn_ , that they have telepathic powers, and you’re hoping to keep it that way.

_Secret and safe._

You hoist Bobby against your shoulder, rubbing his back firmly to bring up his wind, and then you settle him on the picnic blanket with little Penny, who immediately rolls over to him and curls her tiny fingers into his hair, tugging upon the sparse locks until he squeaks in protest. Clicking your tongue, you sit down and settle Bobby on your lap, between your crossed legs, fixing your daughter with a mildly disapproving look, “Hey, stop bullying your brother, you cheeky little pest.” She giggles at you, gracing you with a wide smile, toothless but utterly charming, and you reach down to tickle her stomach, “You think you’re so funny, don’t you? Just like your stupid old Papa.” 

When you found out that you were pregnant, almost a year ago, one of your first concerns was your doubts over the exact parentage of your unborn child. It had to be one of the clowns, because you hadn’t been with anyone else since coming home to Derry, but you couldn’t be sure which of the two creatures had impregnated you. Even now, there is no way of telling for sure, but you’ve reached the private conclusion that the twins are a strange mixture of both clowns, mostly because it’s the least complicated option and the one you’d most like to believe. Still, if you really think about it, you can’t deny that you’ve noticed the similarities between little Penny and her namesake, just as Bobby seems to take after Junior. Your daughter has Penny’s dark red curls and luminous blue eyes, whilst Bobby’s hair is bright copper, standing up in an unruly peak over his chubby face. His eyes are blue, like his sister’s, but they’re already starting to change, the irises darkening around the pupils, and you can guess that they’ll be a startling _amber_ in colour before the year is out. 

You’re pretty sure that the clowns have noticed too, but they’ve never commented on it and they treat the twins equally, without bias or prejudice. You had mentioned it to Penny once, when you were spending an evening alone with him at the trailer, but he had just shrugged at your tentative questions, “I knew you were frettin’ over it, babydoll. Y’know, it’s probably just their imprinting drive kickin’ in.” You must have looked confused then, because he had rolled his eyes at you, favouring you with a patient smile, “I caught little Penny when she came sliding out of you, so my handsome mug was the first thing she saw after she was born. Lucky little thing. Must’ve been the same for Bobby-boy with Junior, so he pulled the short-straw when it came to the looks department. It doesn’t matter to me, though. They’re _our_ babies, {y/n}, and they’re _perfect_.” Amused by the limitations of your tiny human brain, as always, Penny had pulled you flush against him, his voice bright with playful mockery, “Can’t wait to see your face when they start shape-shifting, doll. Oho, that’ll be a Kodiak moment for sure. One for the album.” 

_And then the fucking bastard had clammed up on you, smirking at your bemused expression, and he had carried you off to the bedroom and fucked you senseless, until you forgot all about those nagging doubts and fears.  
_

But now, sitting out here with your babies, you can’t help but let your mind wander, puzzling over Penny’s cryptic words as the twins doze quietly on the blanket, under your watchful gaze. 

_Shape-shifting.  
_

_Geez, I fucking hope not!_

You’ve had enough trouble trying to get your head around the telepathy thing, without having to deal with any more eldritch nonsense. 

 

* * *

 

As the sun disappears beyond the trees, you settle back and close your eyes, taking a brief moment for yourself before you have to bathe the twins in the kitchenette sink and put them to bed. You’re hoping that they’ll settle down quickly tonight, so that you can freshen up and get some rest in time for Penny’s return from…well, from the _hunt_ , you suppose, although you don’t like to think about _that_ , not if you can help it. 

On a good day, you can almost fool yourself that this is _normal,_ that he’s not an alien-clown-monster and you’re his wife, waiting for him to come home from work. It’s a ridiculous fantasy, a 1950s sitcom daydream, but you covet it all the same. Penny _knows_ , and he uses it against you, indulging your silly delusions and whims. It’s all a game to him, a nasty little diversion, and you’ve playing right into his hands since the very beginning of this fucking mess. His pretty babydoll, nursing his babies and cleaning up after him and Junior, like a good _hausfrau._ You’ll settle the twins into their bassinet and then you’ll make yourself pretty for him; red lips and lace panties, just the way he likes it. You’ll hand him a beer when he walks through the door, and then you’ll strip away your clothes and climb on to his lap in the old La-Z-Boy, kissing that smirking red mouth until he growls your name. 

_But you can’t pretend forever.  
_

The reality is bleak and _horrible_ and so fucking wrong. 

You let out a heavy sigh, silently cursing yourself for the millionth time this year. This _week_ , in fact. A cool breeze ripples the edges of the picnic blanket and you open your eyes, shivering slightly, stretching the stiffness from your bunched limbs. Bobby is fast asleep, slumped on his front with his face turned towards you, his round bottom raised into the air. You smile fondly at him, reaching down to wipe the bubbling drool from between his plump lips. 

“Yup, you’re a gross little cutie-pie just like your Dada. _Ugh_.” You smile ruefully at your son, and then you turn your attentions to his sister, “And as for you, my  girl, I don’t want to hear any complaining at bath-time…” 

You reach across to roll your daughter into your arms, and then you _freeze_ , your hand poised over her curled form. 

“What the _fuck_ …”

Instead of a sleeping baby, _your baby_ , you’re looking down at a _raccoon_ , a tiny raccoon in a vest and a diaper, snoring softly on the picnic blanket. You close eyes and cover your face with your hands, shaking your head in stunned disbelief, but the raccoon is still there when you dare to peer through your fingers again. 

_Shape-shifting._

_It’s still her, it’s still my baby girl, she’s just… **changed** …but it’s her, it’s little Penny…oh shit…holy fucking shit…she’s a fucking raccoon…what the fuck am I supposed to do now?  
_

Steeling yourself, you gather Bobby into your arms, shaking so much that you almost drop him, and then you catch hold of the raccoon, cradling the fluffy creature within the crook of your elbow. Despite your initial fright and panic, you have to take a moment to admire the accuracy of your daughter’s animal facade. You’re not even sure whether she’s ever actually _seen_ a raccoon before, in her short life, but she’s got it down to a tee; the grey and black fur, the distinctive markings, the tail, the claws…

“That’s pretty amazing, sweetheart.” 

You murmur praise in a tremulous voice, gazing down at your babies and feeling a strange pride swelling within your heart. Still, you have no idea how to get her to change back, much less how to stop her from shifting again, _in public_ , and you’re filled with fresh terror at this new development. You head back into the trailer, deciding the skip the bath and put the twins straight to bed, for now. Once they’re settled, curled around each other in the bassinet, you pour yourself a much needed beer and collapse into the La-Z-Boy, letting out a weary sigh as you sink into its familiar depths. You must have drifted off and, when you open your eyes, mumbling blearily and brushing the dust of sleep from your vision, you’re not alone in the trailer. Penny is lounging on the couch, reading a newspaper, and Junior is sitting on the floor, his long limbs folded, his misaligned amber gaze fixed upon you. 

“Huh? When did you get here…” You sit up, suddenly remembering your earlier plight, and you start to cry, babbling incoherently at the clowns, “Oh shit, _the twins_ …little Penny…she was a _raccoon_ , Pen, and I didn’t know what to do…”

Penny chuckles, seemingly unmoved by your distress, “Calm down, baby. The kids are asleep, safe and sound in the bedroom.” 

You’re out of the chair before he can say another word, peering anxiously around the bedroom door, into the bassinet, and you let out a shuddering sigh of relief at the sight of your daughter’s red hair and soft skin. No raccoon, just a perfect little girl, dozing quietly beside her brother. Penny and Junior are watching you, their eyes sparkling with repressed mirth, and you close the bedroom door and glare back at them, folding your arms and huffing loudly, “It’s _not_ funny.” 

“C’mon, baby. It’s _kinda_ funny.” Penny smirks, patting the seat cushion next to him, “Can’t believe our little girl’s shiftin’ already. I mean, she hasn’t even cut her first tooth yet. Geez, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” 

Junior bounces on the spot, clapping his huge hands together like an excited child, “Oho, she was such a cute little raccoon, {y/n}! Aren’t you _proud_ of her?” 

You roll your eyes, moving to sit beside Penny on the couch, “Yeah, I guess so.” Penny curls his arms around you, pressing a light kiss against your furrowed brow, and you manage a faint smile, feeling the tension ease from your body at his touch, “How did you get her to change back?” 

“Just a little gentle persuasion. Tapped into her mind and told her that it was time to come back to us.” Penny lights a cigar, rubbing a gloved hand across your thigh in soothing circles, “She’ll learn to control it, baby. You just gotta be patient with her until then.”

You sigh heavily, shaking your head, “Easier said than done. I mean, what if it happens again when we’re out in public? Or when she’s with my parents?” 

“We’ve told her not to do it unless she’s here, or at your house, with us.” Junior shifts to sit between your legs, resting his sharp chin upon your knee, “She knows the rules.”

“Really? She’s a _baby_.” You snort, eyeing him skeptically, “She doesn’t understand.” 

Penny frowns at that, giving your thigh a reproachful tap, “She’s a smart little cookie, doll.” He chuckles indulgently and winks at you, blowing smoke into the air, “Takes after her old man.” 

Knowing better than to argue with him, you settle back into the cushions, reaching down to draw your hand through Junior’s hair. He leans into your touch, letting out a rumbling purr, “The raccoon was impressive, but I hope she shifts into something _scarier_ next time. Something with a little _bite_ to it.” He nips at your fingers playfully, giggling when you give a little squeak and move your hand away. 

“That’s the problem with you, brat. All style, no substance. That’s why you’re always hungry.” Penny rolls his eyes at the younger clown, “Raccoons can be nasty little fuckers, y’know. They lure you in with those cute little bandit faces, makin’ you think they’re just sweet little fuzz-balls, and then they sink their fangs into your ankle.” 

Junior scoffs, stretching out across the linoleum like a huge cat, “Look, I’ll bet you that I can get the twins to shift into something _really_ scary before the week is out. Like, a snake or a tiger, or a great white shark in the bathtub.” He lets out an exaggerated yawn before sliding his arms behind his head, his amber eyes drifting over the ceiling, “It’s up to _me_ to teach them how to scare all the humans, because…well let’s face facts here, you’re past it, old man.” 

Penny bristles beside you, his fingers tensing upon your thigh, “Is that so? Well, I might just take you up on that little wager, kid. Time to sort the men from the boys, yeah?” He leans forward, smiling dangerously at the other clown, “You wanna set the stakes?” 

Junior rolls to one side, humming pensively, and raps his fingers against the floor, “The loser has to shift into a pony and give the winner rides for a whole day?” 

You let out a groan, running a hand across your brow, “This is ridiculous.” 

“So fucking ridiculous, babydoll.” Penny concurs, rolling his eyes in your direction, “So, I’m thinkin’ the winner gets to ride your sweet little _cunt_ instead, whenever he wants, _wherever_ he wants, for a whole week.” You let out a strangled cry of protest, furious at him, at the sheer _nerve_ of him, trying to drag you into this stupid game and make a _prize_ of you. The clown only presses a finger to your lips, shushing you, his eyes fixed upon Junior’s rapt face, “And the loser has to watch, no touching, and that means no touching _yourself_ either, kid. So you’ll just have to keep those busy hands to yourself when I’m claimin’ my winnings, won’t ya?” 

“Yeah, _if_ you win.” Junior counters, bringing his arms forward to entwine his fingers and crack the knuckles together, the unpleasant sound bringing a _wince_ to your parted lips, “But you _won’t_.” He slides his tongue across his lips, waggling his nonexistent eyebrows at you in an obscenely suggestive manner, “And I’m gonna relish seeing the look on your face when I’m pounding your little fucktoy into the mattress.” 

Penny chuckles spitefully, sliding an arm around your waist and easing back into the depths of the couch, “Into the mattress? You can have her anywhere you want and you’re just gonna keep her in bed the whole time? Oho babydoll, you’d best be prayin’ for Daddy to win this one, otherwise you’re gonna die of boredom after a week under this big goon.” 

“Oh, she’s gonna die of _something_ , but it certainly won’t be boredom.” Junior smirks, his amber eyes gleaming with lustful promise, “Bring it on, old man.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week passes in a tense monotony of muted competition, and you’re amused and exasperated in turn at the combined efforts of the clowns as they perform for the twins, pulling out all the stops to win the bet. 

Junior throws himself into the task with unabashed gusto, taking the opportunity to show off his powers and give the twins a practical demonstration; _scary shape-shifting 101._ He props them up in your lap, standing before you with a goofy smile on his face, and then he gives a flamboyant flourish and transforms into a snarling tiger, prowling around your lounge and sending Frank into paroxysms of territorial violence. 

Over the course of the week, he transforms into no less than eight different shapes; the aforementioned tiger, a grizzly bear, a rabid dog, a fire-breathing dragon, a huge bat, a giant cockroach, a Nosferatu-inspired vampire, and, most impressively, a great white shark to rival _Jaws_ , beaching himself on your kitchen floor. The twins burble and clap for him, delighted by his antics, but there is no change in them, save for a short-lived moment of excitement when Bobby manages to shift into a mirror-image of Frank, much to Junior’s disgust.

“Why do you hate Dada?” The clown whines piteously, after a particularly trying afternoon, holding little Penny over his gaping fang-lined maw, “I’m just trying to teach you how to be scary, like me!”

She giggles at him, kicking her plump legs, and then promptly vomits into his mouth. 

Penny is taking a more relaxed approach to it all, at first, spending hours in quiet repose with his offspring. Most afternoons, you’ll find him lying on the bed with the babies curled around him, his white face almost serene, his eyes glowing faintly as he taps into their shared telepathic link.

“How’s it going?” You always make sure to ask, once he’s conscious and back in the room with you, his gaze now free from that strange unearthly glow, “Are you winning?” 

He only shrugs in response, reaching down to give you a firm pat between the legs and favouring you with an enigmatic smile, “Eyes on the prize, babydoll.” 

But, by the end of the week, he’s lost that cocky edge, and he’s not even trying to keep his voice down as he pleads for their collaboration, “C’mon kids, I _know_ you can hear me in there! Penny-girl, how’s about you shift into a nice werewolf, for your old Papa? You can already manage a raccoon, it’s not that much different. Look, just turn into something, _anything_ …a turtle? What? You wanna be a turtle? No, no _fucking_ way, Bobby. _Geez_ …”

You stay out of the way, drinking tea and watching television with Frank on your lap, allowing yourself a wry smile at the stupidity unfolding overhead. 

Finally, the week draws to a close, and you return home from a visit to your parents with the twins, hoping for an end to the silly competition, and some much-needed peace and quiet, only to be confronted by a most unwelcome sight. 

_A cop car, parked outside your house.  
_

“Oh shit.” You grip the stroller with white-knuckled fingers, pushing slowly over to the car, your mind racing with unpleasant thoughts, “What the fuck…” _  
_

_Is it another disappearance?  
_

_Another murder?  
_

_But why would they come here?  
_

_Unless…unless they know about you…about the clowns…_

_About your babies…_

You spot Jim Reeves standing beside your mailbox and you grit your teeth, swallowing back your fear, and plaster a ready smile over your taut features, “Hey, what’s going on, Jim?” _  
_

The cop returns your smile, after a brief hesitation that almost brings an entire confession spilling out of you, and then he stoops to pinch little Penny’s cheek and ruffle Bobby’s hair, “Nothing to worry about, {y/n}. Old Man Grady said he saw some kids hangin’ around here after curfew, that’s all. And there’s been a break-in over on the next street, so we’re making sure that folks ‘round here haven’t left their doors unlocked or any windows open.” 

You let out a sigh, realising that you had been holding your breath the whole time he was speaking, and then you smile again, “Thanks for letting me know, Jim. If I see any kids over here I’ll be sure to send them home.” 

“See you later, {y/n}.” He tips you a wink and climbs into the car, “Remember to lock up before you go to bed, yeah?”

You nod, waving him off, and then you head inside, your heart almost hammering out of your chest. After securing the door, you lift the twins out of the stroller and strip them out of their outdoor coats and booties, before carrying them upstairs to your bedroom. It’s only then, when you’re sprawled out on the bed with your babies snuggled safely in your arms, and Frank draped over your feet, that you begin to sob, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer _panic_ you had felt when you saw the cop car outside. 

Your vision is blurred with tears, your body is trembling, and then the babies start to cry too, upset by your obvious distress. After a moment, Frank lets out a yowl, uncoiling himself from across your feet, and you gaze down at the twins, your breath coming to a sharp pause in your throat when you get a good look at them…

_Bobby is a snake, a red-eyed king cobra, dripping clear venom from pointed fangs, his warm coils curling over your forearms._

_Little Penny is a tarantula, hairy and immense, scuttling back and forth across the mattress on eight legs, clicking her mandibles in a threatening show of…_

_Of what, exactly?  
_

And then you realise that she’s trying to _protect_ you, that they’re _both_ trying to protect you from whatever has caused you such distress, and you start to laugh, the sound coming out in a wet hiccup, and you’re still laughing when the clowns walk into the room, arguing and jostling against one another like a pair of immature frat-boys. 

They stop dead at the sight of the twins, staring at them and at you, and then they start to laugh too, whistling and clapping their hands in delight. You sink back into the pillows, watching as Bobby slowly shifts back into human form, already questing hungrily at your breasts for a feed.

You swipe the tears from your face, guiding a nipple into his mouth with your free hand, and Penny moves to sweep your daughter into his arms, wrestling against the ungainly tangle of her spider-legs. He murmurs her name, soothing her until she’s back in her own shape, and then he sits beside you, his blue eyes twinkling as he gazes down at little Penny, “Knew you had it in you, princess.” Smiling, he reaches across to stroke Bobby’s head, “We’ve got ourselves a pair of little diamonds here, {y/n}.”

Junior perches upon the edge of the bed, grinning like a fool, “So, who won the bet?”

Before Penny can open his mouth, you clear your throat loudly, smiling triumphantly, “I did. I won the bet, so I get the prize. I don’t think I’ll get much use out of it though, so I’ll just have to make it up as I go along, I guess..” The clowns exchange an uneasy look, and you school your features into a graciously serene mask, resisting the urge to laugh at them, “First thing’s first, there’s a sink full of dirty dishes in the kitchen. Junior can see to those, I think.”

He glowers at you, his jaw working furiously, and Penny lets out a delighted cackle, hooting at the other clown’s sulky expression, “You heard the lady. Hop to it, brat.”

“And _you_ can change Bobby’s diaper, once he’s finished with this feed.” You fix Penny with a stern look, enjoying the disgruntled expression that replaces his mocking red smirk, “Oh, I think I’m going to love having you two at my beck and call for a week. I can put my feet up for once, go shopping, catch up on my shows…”

Junior splutters indignantly, looking aghast, but Penny favours you with a wry smile, coiling his fingers over your thigh and giving it a squeeze, “I think we’re good for more than cleanin’ dishes and changin’ diapers, babydoll.”

_His touch sends a frisson of excitement through you, making your cunt melt with each cunning stroke of his fingers against your skin, but you manage to keep a straight face, even though you’re sure that he can feel the tremulous play of your thigh muscles beneath his hand._

_You don’t need to tell him that he’s going to get his fair share of the prize. They’ll both get what they want from you, their fill of your body, just as soon as you’ve had a little fun playing them at their own game. After all, it’s not very often that you manage to gain upper hand in this weird little family._

“Perhaps.” You hood your eyes at the clowns, wetting your lips with your tongue, “But I’ll be the judge of that, Daddy.”


End file.
